


Even my face won't listen to me

by Trotter



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Jisung is dumb and his friends are dumber, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-21 18:56:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15564300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trotter/pseuds/Trotter
Summary: Han Jisung breaks into a building, gets his hand eaten by a vending machine, and becomes boyfriends with the prettiest man in the universe, all in one night.





	Even my face won't listen to me

Felix had to be physically restrained when he found out. “ _No snacks in the vending machine?”_ he kept yelling, and thanks to his deep-ass caveman voice it felt like the earth was vibrating. “No _snacks_ in the _vending machine?_ That’s what it’s for! If I had a butler that delivered me snacks every time I was hungry then I’d be fine, but I _don’t._ I _depend_ on that vending machine. I-”

“It’ll be restocked tomorrow,” Seungmin explained, slowly, for the fifth time. Felix turned his crazy eyes on him and Seungmin threw his hands in the air. “But by all means, go ahead and get mad at this inanimate object if it makes you feel better.”

Personally, Jisung got where Felix’s frustration was coming from. Kind of. It was the week before finals and the days had started to blur together, and their snack runs had taken on sacred meaning, precious and well-justified breaks from scratching their heads over their course material. It was doubly frustrating for Jisung, who didn’t know what he ever did to deserve being roommates with the three dumbest students in JYP Academy.

The third dumbest student in JYP Academy seemed to be thinking very hard about something.

“This vending machine is empty,” Hyunjin said.

“Yes, we’ve established that,” Jisung groaned. The night would last _forever_ at this rate; Jisung was going to die a virgin, surrounded by screaming morons arguing about a vending machine. 

“Shut up Jisung,” Hyunjin said. “Jeez, you’re so _dumb.”_

“ _I’m_ dumb? Have you heard—”

“You were saying, Hyunjinnie?” Seungmin said, quickly heading off the five hundredth iteration of _that_ argument and earning a dirty look from them both, and exaggerated ear-covering from Felix, who probably only understood half of what was being said but wanted to contribute to the general mood of Seungmin is Boring and Square. 

Hyunjin said, “I was _saying_ that even if this one’s empty, the one in Hall F probably isn’t.”

Jisung said, with a roll of his eyes. “And that matters to us, why?”

“WE COULD PROBABLY SNEAK IN,” Seungmin said before Jisung and Hyunjin could start bickering again. “The security guard’s at the front but I heard there’s a window on the ground floor that no one ever locks. You could sneak in through if you’re small enough.”

“So what are we gonna do, hire a kindergartener to ninja us some snacks?” Jisung grumbled.

“Not a kindergartener,” Seungmin said in this tone that he probably thought sounded grave and profound. What a fucking nerd. “Someone kindergartner- _sized_ would do.”

Jisung looked at his roommates and his roommates looked at him.

“I hate _all_ of you,” he said, with feeling.

 

 

Minho had the worst friends.

Those friends thought he was being ironic when he said this, but he unfortunately, unironically did have the worst friends: in between Changbin’s spoiled mama’s boy antics and Chan constantly doing science experiments in their freezer, it was a miracle that neither of them had woken up with a pillow in in their face. Yet.

“Channie again?” asked Woojin sympathetically, when he found Minho in the middle of the night seething at the contents of their fridge. Woojin, Minho thought. Woojin would be the sole survivor of the dorm-wide massacre once Minho snaps, because Woojin is occasionally helpful and always cuddly, and Minho appreciates that.

“Where are you going,” Woojin asked next, when Minho pocketed his wallet. “If it’s to kill Channie, can you please first ask him where he put my humidifier?”

Minho smiled sweetly. “Sure, hyung! Will do!”

Woojin waved him off.

Minho hummed as he traipsed out. His floor had two vending machines, but the one on the first floor had the kind of cold sodas he really liked, the only acceptable alternative now that his cola had been used for an experiment.

He was smiling to himself, thinking about what kind he’d get, and just before he rounded the corner, he heard someone beatboxing very badly.

He paused.

The Academy had a reputation for being kind of stressful, but he was confident if anyone in this hall was going to snap, it would be him. It was probably someone who remembered the better soda on this floor, just like Minho did.

Minho shrugged and kept on walking.

Sitting on the floor next to the soda machine was someone’s preschooler brother. His legs were crossed, and in the bad lighting of the hall it looked like his hair was a bright fungus-y orange. He had given up beatboxing, and had started rapping something.

Minho caught the phrases _inconsiderate bitch friends_ and _gonna die a virgin_ and his eyebrows went up.

The kid was a better rapper than a beatboxer, Minho had to give him that; the lyrics were a work in progress but he had a nice voice, surprisingly deep for someone who hadn’t hit puberty yet.

“What are you doing,” he said, coming to a stop a few feet away from the vending machine, and the preschooler.

The kid looked up at him, and okay, maybe he wasn’t as young as Minho first thought.

The kid blinked a few times, and Minho was slightly gratified by the way he mouthed _holy shit_ to himself.

“I’m stuck.”

 

 

Jisung’s next track on Soundcloud was going to be called _D-0: Trapped,_ and he had almost finished writing the lyrics for it when someone said,

“What are you doing?” in a tone that wasn’t really a question.

Jisung tsk’d under his breath—he’d really had a flow going—and he looked up and saw…

Oh.

It was Felix and Hyunjin’s Undeservedly Handsome Dance Hyung.

He’d been trying to talk to Felix and Hyunjin’s Undeservedly Handsome Dance Hyung for _ages._ The fates never aligned (meaning, Felix and Hyunjin did all that was humanly possible to cockblock him) but given the chance, Jisung was confident that he could charm him.

And this _would_ be a chance if his damn hand wasn’t caught in this damn vending machine.

“I’m stuck,” he said, full of despair.

Those perfect eyebrows ticked up even further. “How.”

Sexy _and_ intimidating. Jisung was hearing wedding bells (he should sample those for his next track) as he said, with as much aegyo he could muster,

“I was hungry and the candy wasn’t coming out, so I tried to pull it out.”

His expression softened. “Did you get lost? Where’s your Mommy?”

Jisung gaped at him.

“I’m twenty.”

“Fuck off with that shit,” said Felix and Hyunjin’s Undeservedly Handsome Dance Hyung, rolling his eyes. “You’re clearly a baby.”

“I’m really not, though?” Jisung said. This wasn’t great; people generally weren’t romantically inclined to date toddlers, and Jisung needed to prove himself for Felix and Hyunjin’s Undeservedly Handsome Dance Hyung to give him a chance. “Look, I can’t reach, but I have my campus ID on me right now. Han Jisung, I’m an Audio Engineering major. I’m friends with Hyunjin and Felix. I’d shake your hand but like I said before, I’m kind of stuck.”

“Oh,” said with a curl of a pretty upper lip, “You’re one of those annoying loud kids Hyunjin’s always hanging out with?”

Not exactly what Jisung was expecting, but he’ll take it. “Yeah!” he said. “I mean—I’m the quiet one, really. People are always asking me, Jisung, why are you always hanging out with those loud kids when you’re so soft-spoken and nice— what are you doing?”

The love of Jisung’s life turned around, looking surprised. “Leaving? You look like the type who can entertain himself just fine.”

Well. Jisung forced out a couple rusty chuckles that dried up when he actually began walking away.  

“Hey, come on!” Jisung said, dangerously close to whining. “You’re gonna leave me to die like this? At least tell me your name.”

“Sounds like someone’s got his priorities straight,” the boy said, but when he turned around he was smiling.

He’d been _faking_. Mischief sparkled in his eyes, bright like stars, and then a smile like a slow-dawning sunrise began spreading across his face.

Jisung’s mouth dropped open. “You have a beautiful smile,” he said, dreamlike.

Then: “If we date, can I touch your dimples?”

 

Minho looked at Jisung, and pretended to consider him.

The truth was, this Jisung kid, for all his chubby cheeks and big eyes, was _fun._ He had big cartoony facial expressions that used his whole face, and his bullet-train chatter was cute as hell. If he was Hyunjin’s age that meant he was only two years younger than Minho, which wasn’t ideal for Minho, who usually dated older guys, but it wasn’t _impossible_ either.

“If we date, you can touch a lot more than that,” Minho said, and had the pleasure of watching Jisung choke on his own tongue. “But that’s a great big _if_ right there. You don’t even know my name.”

“I bet I could find out,” Jisung said. He waggled his eyebrows and bounced a little. “I know you live in this hall. I just have to ask around for the handsome dancer with the killer smile. People can’t resist my puppy dog eyes when I ask them a question. Wanna see?”

He made a series of ridiculous faces.

Minho blinked very gravely down at him. “But how will you do that if you’re still stuck down there?”

Jisung looked dismayed, which made Minho giggle, which in turn made Jisung very visibly puff up with pride. “Don’t worry,” Jisung blustered. “I’ll cut my arm off if I have to.”

“Okay then,” Minho said, and had a second to catalog Jisung’s look of pure terror before he was aiming a casual but precise kick at the side of the vending machine.

Jisung—all limbs intact, confidence probably shaken—flew about a foot backwards, his hand freed.

“Happens all the time,” Minho said breezily. “I have a roommate who, believe it or not, is dumber than you.”

“You’re _crazy,”_ Jisung said. His eyes sparkled. “I love it. Can I kiss you?”

Minho rolled his eyes. “Not till the first date.”

 

(Later, he invited Jisung to sleep in their dorm because the window had somehow got locked on his way in. Chan was sitting at the kitchen table with a burette when he came in.

“Minho,” he said warmly. “I heard you went out on a vending machine run. What’d you get?”

Minho registered Jisung coming up next to him. “A boyfriend,” he said, deadpan.

“A—wait, what?”

“Hi, Channie-hyung!” Jisung chirped. “You two are roommates? Wow, what a coincidence! Hyung, you could have introduced us _ages_ ago.”

“You’re dating _Jisung?”_ Chan looked a little green around the gills. Ha. If Minho had known dating Jisung would make his most annoying roommate look so stressed he’d have done it ages ago.

“Yep!”

“The only reason I roomed with you guys is because you were _quiet,”_ Chan says. “This howling monkey is the opposite of quiet.”

“And to think,” Minho said, smugly, “None of this would have happened if my cola had been in the fridge where I left it.”

Chan buried his head in his hands and groaned.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> ughhhh please forgive the quality of this, this wasn't well thought-out at all. title from Red Velvet's Dumb Dumb, which is basically the theme song for this fic.


End file.
